The Untold Tales Of Jib
by youngbudget
Summary: Hey guys, this is not so much a fanfic but an experiment to see what world I could come up with if I just kept writing and let any idea that came into my head flow out! There is some reference to well known celebs and pop culture so hopefully thats enough!


Jib woke up with a pain in his left hand. He had written so much last night that he fell asleep at his desk clutching his pen. Moving his head from the desk he stretched and looked down at what kept him up nearly all night.  
His Christmas list to Santa.  
Now if you think Jib was a small child you'd be wrong. Jib was 27. The reason that Jib, the 27 year old in question, was writing a list to Santa was because he lived in Shalola-hola-my-hola which if you don't know is next to Bristol.  
If, for some reason, your STILL confused as to why Jib, the 27 year old who I don't think we mentioned always wore a Man U jersey was writing a list to Santa its because in Shalola-hola-my-hola, things go very differently to where you live…

For instance, the main religion is Penis. Carl Cox, the founder of the religion was both vain and egotistical and in around 1700 he wanted to have his own country but his Mam and Dad were both Liverpool Fans so they were just scumbags and said no. Carl couldn't take it for an answer and on his 18th went to the top of the town and with a saw he bought in Arnots sawed the entire town so it floated into the sea. When he did this he then stood on a small stool and declared himself King and that everyone should worship him as a God. Unfortunately for Carl the people of Shalola-hola-my-hola only heard the words "Cox" and "God" and so began chanting "GOD IS IN ME BOLLOCKS" over and over. However fortunately for Carl the town had a massive alcohol problem and everyone having been drinking the night before just took his word and agreed to have him as King

Back to the Santa matter though. In Shalola-hola-my-hola Santa is a notorious, malicious, evil mass murderer who kills only one person every year on December 25th. He may give gifts to other countries across the world but for reasons unknown when he lands in Shalola-hola-my-hola he stands outside City Hall and requests the name of whomever he chooses to bring back to the North Pole to work until death making IKEA furniture. (This is a side project he works on from what we can gather from his 2002 interview in Shalola-hola-my-holas Vanity Fair).

In order to increase your chances of NOT getting called. Santa asks you write all the names of those you don't want to be taken on a list. If he finds that the name of someone is not mentioned more than 3 times within the letters of the entire town, he takes them.

So Jib, wrote only two names and it took him all night because as I said the town has a massive alcohol problem and it doesn't exclude the teachers. Basically Jibs thick. The names were Catherine and Catherine. It was meant to be Catherine and Alex but Jib couldn't spell Alex so he hoped Santa would guess what he meant.

"Gerrup Jib, Yer late fer d bus ye bloody arrogant dope. Just like YOUR DA!" called out Juliet, Jibs Mother. She was the Minister for Finance in Shalola-hola-my-hola and had to count 6 pennies every day. The same pennies. She fucking loved it.  
"Coming" yelled Jib and put on his Man U jersey with bright denim jeans and brown shoes. He wanted to look extra special for handing in his list to the Kings Men at City Hall.  
Running out the door he heard his mam yell "YE FORGOT MINE YE POX I MIGHT DIE-" but he couldn't hear the rest since he slammed the door.  
Walking down the road which was lovely. Jib thought how he loved lovely roads and wondered if there was a job in it. But he kept reminding himself he had a playschool education and deserved more.  
"Kevin Bacon, Jib!" yelled High Gay Quinoa from the steps of a Penis Church. Mass must have just finished.  
"Kevin Bacon" Jib nodded back.  
It should be said that the Holy Men of Carl Cox's religion "Penis" are known as High Gays and can only speak in male names Since one lad thought it would be funny to write it down in the rules back in 1700 and another lad, being a severe homosexual decided to keep it so he could shout names of celebrities he liked from OK magazine. Being Gay in Shalola-hola-my-hola was something held high and is also a condition for joining the church of Penis. The reason being was because in 1768 High Gay (or Lord back then) Ken was just sick of heterosexuals. He wasn't gay, he just really hated himself so wanted gays in to cheer him up. The rule stuck and High Gay Gordon or GG as he liked to be called made it mandatory.

Turning onto Kerry Katona Avenue, Jib saw Crystal Palace. Not the team, they were shite. Man U my son all the way. No, THEE Crystal Palace where The Royal family of Cox lived. Outside he saw about 3 or 16 Kings Men. Jib couldn't really count so without getting too upset, he walked closer to the Palace.

The Kings Men were tall and blonde. Both men and women but they must be blonde. I don't really have an answer as to why but sure there you go.  
Walking up to the one sitting at a desk outside the palace Jib reached out his letter.  
"Alright Jib" said the man while taking the letter  
"Alright Da" said Jib which made the man quickly grow angry.  
"I fucking told you to stop calling me and everyone here Da. Im not your Da!" yelled the man.  
"Ah gewon, please be my Da, ye seem really nice" said Jib.  
The man sighed and stamped a piece of paper handing it back to him.  
"There you go, your receipt, now fuck off" the man signaled whit his hand  
"Ah no need mister, fucking no need for dah" said Jib doing a little dance as he walked away to ease the tension. His Mam loved him dancing. These men, did not.

CHAPTER 2 – Santa Arrives 

Jib was sitting at home with his mam counting her pennies when she started to swear after losing count. He made himself a nice cup of tea but couldnt find any jaffa cakes.  
"Here I might go the shops" he said to his mam who looked up confused.  
"Eh, u havin a laff? Santys comin in 20 mins ye haven't got time. No gewon and run up to City Hall"  
Jib didn't even argue he knew how important this was. Even more important than Jaffa Cakes.  
Putting on his Man U sports jacket he left hearing his mam scream  
"YOU NEED TO HELP ME I THINK MY LEG IS BROK-" but he didn't hear the end as the sound of the city announcement over the town speakers roared.

"COME YE, COME ALL, SANTA IS COMING AND HE DOESN'T STALL".  
Rushing out of the house Jib found his way down to City Hall and ushered himself into the mass of the crowd that was gathering. Standing just outside City Hall was a large wooden stage that had both Christmas Trees and Scientology Symbols (There was 7 scientologists in Shalola-hola-my-hola and since they never shut up about it they tried to make them feel included)  
The King was sitting on a thrown made out of wheatabix boxes and carrots (as per tradition). He was a man who always smiled and tried to make jokes. People never knew if they laughed out of humour or pity. Before Jib could imagine himself without any hair they heard sleigh bells ring and sure enough Santa arrived. The sleigh landed with a hard thump on the stage and sent a gust of wind into the crowd. Instantly the lights went dark and Santa got out. His eyes glowed red and you could see his breath from the cold.

He shook the Kings hand and then went to the small microphone in the middle of the stage.  
"Good evening ladies, gentlemen and scientologists. This is the 237th calling of the names and I want to start of by saying congratulations on Margaret and Robert for having a beautiful baby boy this afternoon." He started to clap and everyone joined. Margaret and Robert really were a lovely couple. Jib was happy for them.  
"Now back to why I'm really here. This year I was disappointed. Not only was this name not mentioned more that 3 times but not one person in the town wrote it down." Everyone gasped but Santa just shrugged. "yiz are a pack of bastards, like not one of you. Anyway, its Jib, is he here?"  
Jib froze. Did he really call his name? Well of course he did. There was no other Jib in town which was law. No two people could have the same name.  
"Do…do I have to go?" Jib called out as those standing beside him stared to move away from him.  
"Why have you got something on?" asked Santa  
"Well is Saturday tomorrow and the footies on" Jib yelled over to him.  
The crowd gasped again. It was true. Footie was on tomorrow and not just any game but the ultimate game. The biggest game in football; the premiere European champion super league 5 a side. No one could miss it. It was Shalola-hola-my-hola tradition.

"fuck sake" said Santa rubbing his temples. "Right well you can come work for me tonight, come back tomorrow for the match and then back to me, yeh? Cmon now" he waved Jib over. Jib walked over wondering how he'd never see his mam again and ho- ah bollox he thought. He never got jaffa cakes. He reached the sleigh and got in about to wave goodbye to everyone when he heard the crack of a whip and the sleigh flew off.

The wind whipped against Jibs face as Santa went further into the sky before reaching a steady pace and slowed down. Jib sat in the back wondering if he should talk.  
"Busy tonight?" he asked.

"Ah just the usual to be honest, were you having a good night?" Santa replied reaching for the radio to lower it down.  
"It was alright, nothing major-" Jib saw something flicker in the corner of his eye. In the back with him in the sack was a small vial that caught the moons light. Reaching down he saw a name written on it. "Poison for James Corden"  
"Everything alright back there?" Santa asked trying to look back  
"Yeah yeah fine…" said Jib tucking it away. Jib knew not to ask about it because James Corden wasn't just any name. It was the most famous name in all of Shalola-hola-my-hola.

The name of the King.

To Be Continued…


End file.
